Colorblind
by threadsofregret
Summary: My excuse has been used countless times before, to justify quick shags and broken relationships. But this was real. It was true and pure, just like her." M for Femme-slash. Song fic to Colorblind by the Counting Crows.


**Disclaimer:** Though I wish I could own Daniel Radcliffe, I do not have anything to do with J.K. Rowling, Bloomsbury Books Inc., Scholastic Books, Warner Brothers, or any of its affiliates. I am but a humble fan-author with a great affinity for this genuis' work. Also, I do not own Universal/ Geffen Records, Adam Duritz, producers David Lowery and David Herring, or any members of the Counting Crows. I do not take credit for their beautiful and inspiring music or lyrics, but do own their CD _This Desert Life_, which you readers should all go out and buy.

Warning: This contains non-explicit femme-slash and very mild language. Only proceed at your discretion. I don't want flames from homophobes.

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Colorblind: The Counting Crows

_I am colorblind— _

_Coffee black and egg white  
Pull me out from inside  
I am ready, I am ready...I **am** ready  
I am... _

Tears. Too many fell from the frail girl's face, drowning her in a pool of unconsciousness and disillusionment. Loss meant nothing to her—it was merely an ordinary emotion that could be overcome by a simple spell or a potion. But this was nothing ordinary; _this_ had cost her the person, the witch she had worked so hard to become. No longer the awkward, clumsy mess, she was beautiful.

But didn't realize it.

_Taffy stuck, tongue tied…  
Stuttered shook and uptight  
Pull me out from inside  
I am ready, I am ready, **I am ready**…  
I am—_

_Fine.  
_

It wasn't the typical "fairytale" love…if this could even be called that. It was lust, a passing interval for the two involved. Names only gave so much, and didn't do this justice. At first reticent and uncomfortable, this _bond_ showed two individuals sides of each other that they didn't realize existed.

Fumbling to whisper, touch, kiss, it was as if everything they knew to do was magnified a million times over and completely erased. Nothing made sense, but somehow, it felt right.

Afraid to reach out, discouraged because _this_ wasn't **en**couraged, they placed these feelings in a tiny span of their memory that could never be reached. Until it was too late to go back, there these feelings lay, hoping and waiting that the holder would release them and show the world who they truly were.

Admitting this _terrible crime_ may have been easier with acceptance, but both knew that this was never a factor. They were so at ease together, yet kept a façade that said otherwise, shielding the evident truth in a wall of hurt and fear.

They were afraid of rejection more than anything.

Secret was the favorite word. But with it came ridicule, disgust, and hatred. They hated themselves as well.

Giving up was an option that neither thought of taking.

There was no turning back.

_I am covered in this skin.  
**No one** gets to come in.  
Pull me out from inside  
I am folded, and **unfolded**, and unfolding…  
I am colorblind._

It was too much to take all at once. Protecting themselves, each other, and those around them was not an easy task. But somehow they managed, only to find that they were more disappointed than before.

Finally, there was nothing else but sharing these secrets—uncovering these memories as a giant weight lifted off of their shoulders.

Finally, a night alone, with nothing else to do but love.

Shyly but steadily, the frail girl touched the other, eliciting a shudder and a gasp. This moment would be savored forever.

Their love was slow, pleasure unbearably seeping from every corner. It was more than any magic could give. This _was_ magic.

Lower and lower she progressed, tasting and kissing everything she had missed with great care and tenderness. The gentle curve of her neck, the curtain of silky hair, the milky-white skin, the calm brown of her iris—it was all too beautiful.  
With an embrace that lasted a lifetime, she paused for a moment and glanced at the other's face. Both were nervous, timid, afraid, and insecure, everything that they were not in the other world, the _real_ world. A small nod and an awkward smile signified consent to everything this girl could give.  
Back down, she proceeded with a soothing breath and a silent comfort. This was meant to be. In the core, it was too much to bear, the pleasure was too great.  
And then it ended. Inexplicable, this intimacy was the beginning of newfound happiness that couldn't last.  
This time, both realized it.

_Coffee black and egg white  
Pull me out from inside…_

_I am ready, I am ready, I am ready—_

I, Ginny Weasely, am this frail girl, waiting for a chance and for this love that never came. Already set apart with an ugly mass of red, a ghostly pale, and spots like an animal, I am loathed once again.  
And again it does not bother me, but her instead. I am but a scrawny, bumbling, poor excuse, and she is a beautiful woman—who I did not deserve.

_I am fine…_

So I left—in fear of what I would do to myself and more importantly, what I would do to her. How I would tarnish her perfect reputation as Head Girl, disgrace my family, and repulse all of Hogwarts! I could not risk it, _she_ was too perfect.

My excuse has been used countless times before, by insecure men with no recollection of any feeling. It has been used to justify quick shags and broken relationships. But this was real, however hard it may be to believe. It was true and pure.

Just like her.

_I am fine_—  
So I am crying, mourning for her. She appears to be fine, carefully positioned between black and red, acting like nothing happened. I hate her for this. I want her to cry, I want her to remain as sullen and unhappy as I am. But nothing. She is slightly smiling as always, poised and ready to help any first-year in need. I was that first-year long before.  
I sit here, thinking if my choice was the right one. _Of course it wasn't, silly girl, you lost the best thing in your life. There are no more chances_. I convince myself that this was for the best, but to no avail. I will never have her again, and once more my story ends heartbroken and unsatisfied.  
I cannot see anything but Hermione Granger—the resident Know-It-All, Head-Girl, and teacher's pet. She has so many flaws, but they escape me. I can only see beauty in black and white, clearer than most things but still foggy and misconstrued. Without a cruel intention, here I lie, showing my full array of emotions but receiving nothing in return.

I will become the protective, defensive girl I once was, and try to forget. But I'm sure it's not that easy. My alternate universe can hold one, and there I will stay.

_I am fine._

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I hope you liked it. Review if you would like.

Threads of Regret 3


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